


don't stop (bury me)

by Trojie



Series: the ghost of you [4]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Public Sex, Shovel Talk, Tour Bus Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: We live on a fucking bus, Gerard. You can have frequent boinking or private boinking but you can't have both, buddy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another Gerard-POV alternate scene from _could I? should I?_

The way Gerard knows he actually has a problem, reminds himself, when he starts to think maybe he can relax, is that it's boredom that makes him want a drink. That's when he clenches his hold on himself and finds something else to do, to think about - when he's jiggling his leg and unable to settle and his brain immediately thinks of having a glass in hand. 

It's bad when they're on the road, mostly. Everyone's so careful around him when they're in a situation where drinking could actually occur, but it's when no-one's watching and there's nothing else to do that the worst of it rears its head. They've been shunted back onto the bus for another long drive and Gerard is _itching_. Bob and Ray and Mikey settle down - reading, guitar, some pathetic attempt at a nap respectively, and Frank heads straight to the bathroom because he's bleeding yet again, and Gerard tries to do the same, to settle, he really does, but it's hard. 

He can feel Mikey's eyes on him, though, so he forces himself to get a comic book and to sit, even if he can't make his brain work its way through a single linear sentence. 

Then Frank comes back from the bathroom with a bandaid on his finger and a smear of blood still on the side of his face, and he wiggles himself onto the couch next to Mikey, under the same blanket, and Gerard's radars start pinging. All of them. 

Maybe it would be subtle if you weren't staring, but Gerard sees it the second Frank's hand starts to move up Mikey's thigh. 

Gerard was never the kind of brother who'd try and prevent people making moves on Mikey. He figured it was a fucking pointless exercise, because no-one's as good at the complete and total freeze-out as Mikey, so if some asshole was all over him and he didn't want it, Gerard's pretty happy Mikey could handle it, but also because Mikey more often than not likes it. In his weird little way he's a flirt. He's more than a flirt. And that's his right and privilege. Kid wants to get laid, who's Gerard to get in the way? 

Of course, there's a difference between getting off with some random at a party or a show, and getting off with your bandmate. Gerard knows that one for a fact. 

There's also a difference between grinding on someone on the dancefloor, when your brother's there but he's too shitfaced drunk to care, and getting the good kind of molested on a tourbus when your brother's a captive audience three feet away. Of course, that's not Mikey's fault. Every time Gerard thinks they have the tactics of whatever the fuck this is sorted, Frank finds a way to pull the rug out from under him again. But it's working. 

Gerard makes eye contact with Frank, just for a split second. Checking in. 

All Gerard wants out of life right now is to make so much noise people's ears bleed, and for Mikey to be okay. 

Frank winks at him, then closes his eyes again like he's napping on Mikey's shoulder. 

Mikey's frozen to the spot, though. Subtle, kiddo. And when Gerard looks at him there's this edge of panic there that there shouldn't be. He wants to tell Mikey it's okay. Go with it.

He puts his finger up to his lips. 

_It's okay. Just go with it._

Mikey shudders, and Frank's hand moves again in a motion Gerard would be able to read even if there was a concrete wall between them, just from the way Mikey's body reacts. 

He hauls his gaze back up to Frank in a hurry, because he can be okay with this and he can want it for Mikey, and he can … share Frank, or whatever you want to call the fact that Frank's now banging them both, but he can't watch Mikey get off. He can't. There's a line and he's not going to cross it. He can do that now. He understands about lines. He understands about stopping. 

Frank's eyes are slitted barely open and he's smiling into Mikey's shoulder as he works him. He's taking it soft and careful, trying not to move anything too much. Stealthy, particularly for Frank. He holds Gerard's gaze and leans up a fraction to say something into Mikey's ear. Mikey doesn't react for a second, and then he -

Shit. Gerard stares fixedly at something up and to the left that definitely isn't Mikey, but it doesn't matter, because Frank's mouthing _he just came_ as if Gerard couldn't put that together from the evidence at hand. 

Frank disentangles himself from Mikey gently and lets him sag into the couch as if he really were asleep, gets up to go to the bathroom. 

Gerard isn't going to follow. He has no reason to follow. His face is burning so hot he can feel it and he realises far, far too late that Bob's body language is 100% consistent with that of someone who's overheard something he didn't want to. Gerard snaps his gaze back down to his comic and realises he's on the last page. 

Fuck. 

If he were a spy he'd have been caught and executed by now. He's so fucking shit at this. Bob's staring at Mikey now, not angrily (Gerard would have some fucking thing to say if Bob was going to act mad at Mikey) but with a question, or something. 

Gerard has to get out of here. He needs air. He needs … air. Yes. That'll do. He hauls himself to his feet and manages to force his voice into something approaching a casual register. 'Anyone need anything while I'm up?' he asks. 'Finished my comic.'

None of them even react. It's as if he didn't say a word. He flees. 

He's not going to go into the bathroom. He's not. Except it's not locked. 

Goddammit. 

Jesus fucking shit the bathroom door is too loud and there's so little space in here that when Gerard squeezes in to find Frank washing his hands again, he's basically already grinding his dick into Frank's ass. 

'You're as subtle as a fucking brick through a windshield,' says Frank. 'But that's nothing new.'

'I said I was okay with this,' Gerard says. 'I didn't say I wanted to see it happening in front of me in fucking Technicolor, asshole.'

Frank shuts the water off and turns around, which drags all of him from ass to hipbone to crotch against Gerard's freaking hard-on. 'I'm sorry,' he says, not sorry at all. 'I tried discretion and you told me I wasn't taking good enough care of him. We live on a fucking bus, Gerard. You can have frequent boinking or private boinking but you can't have both, buddy.'

He leans into Gerard's body and kisses him, backing him up until his thighs hit the toilet and he sits abruptly. 'And if you want this to fly under the radar, maybe stop chasing me into bathrooms, idiot. Ray and Bob aren't stupid.'

By the time Gerard gets himself under control and goes back out, Frank's resettled, Bob's looking murderous, Ray's at maximum Dad Face, and Mikey clearly wants the earth to open up and swallow him. In fact, he runs off pretty much as soon as he can. 

'We need to talk,' says Ray, and Gerard's stomach drops. 

It's everything Gerard expected and nothing he wanted to ever have to sit through. He thought he was done with the kind of Band Talks that begin with 'we need to talk'. 

Bob's fucking furious, is the first thing that comes across. He thinks Gerard and Frank are being cruel, that they aren't thinking about Mikey, that they're just doing this for kicks and can't see what's under their noses, and okay, from the outside that's probably not a bad guess, it'd be the standard fucking movie narrative for something like this, but it's _wrong_.

Ray gets it, sort of. Or at least, Ray's seen enough of how Frank and Gerard are together that he can probably see the shape of why it's okay for Frank to also be sleeping with Mikey. But it makes him uncomfortable. He's a Nice Young Man at heart. He probably walks his dates home and kisses them goodnight and turns down offers of coffee. 

(Okay, Gerard knows for a fact Ray isn't actually that kind of a cliche, but y'know. If he ever found time to have a date, Gerard figures it'd be that kind of date.)

Whatever. Cathartic fucking is not Ray's style and brothers sharing their regular hookup is definitely not his style and the kind of drama that comes with _bandmembers_ fucking is just. Absolutely not something he can just sweep under the rug, apparently. Not any more. And Bob agrees.

'Well, I resent the fucking implication that I don't care about Mikey,' says Frank harshly, glaring at Bob. Bob glares right the fuck back. 

'We're all consenting adults,' Gerard cuts in. 'No-one's going behind anyone else's back here.'

Ray makes a face, his big, expressive mouth twisting. 'You can see why we're worried, though,' he says evenly. 'Even with all the open communication in the world, Gerard, there's a lot of room for shit to go wrong here.'

'Have you noticed he's sleeping better?' Frank asks. He's still snappish, but less vicious about it than he has been since Bob opened fire at him. 'Mikey, I mean?'

'Have you noticed he's drinking less?' Gerard adds, and he knows they weren't gonna go there because they never go there any more, not when he's around, but it's a point worth making so he's gonna make it. And Ray catches his eye at that. 

Gerard knows he's thinking about Japan. But that's - that _was_ \- different. 

'So, what, Frank Iero's ass is a substitute for rehab now?' Bob says, and Gerard can see Frank's itching to get to his feet and ask Bob if he wants to fucking take this outside. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, they're on a moving bus. 

Ray's the one who butts in though. 'If it works, it works,' he says, although he says it heavily. 'And when it stops working?'

'I'm not doing this to fuck with anyone,' says Frank. 'And you can think what you like, Bryar, but if this starts hurting someone, I'm done. I'm out.'

'We'll stop it before it affects the band,' says Gerard quietly. Because that's the important point, right? That's what's at the root of this, the heart of it.

Ray shakes his head. 'It's already affecting the band,' he says, and Gerard's heart goes cold. 'I mean, not like that, just … the band is us, right? And if we're talking about it then it's having an effect.' He pauses, bites his lip. 'I guess … I guess right now that effect is positive, because yeah, okay, I'm not blind, and I'm not gonna lie and say I don't kinda … check up on you guys -'

'- we know, Mom,' Frank says, rolling his eyes. 

'- and he's been a mess, but maybe yeah, the past few gigs he's been less of a mess. So. Okay.' Ray shrugs, like that's him done, opinion delivered, piece spoken. 

'I still don't like it,' says Bob in a low voice. He frowns. 'And if I find out you haven't been straight with him or he's getting fucked up over it, I'm gonna fucking kick your ass, both of you,' he says to Frank and Gerard. Then he sighs. 'Same goes for you two, though. If someone messes you up, I'm fucking coming for them. Even if it's Mikey.'

'Did … did you just like, three-way shovel talk us?'

'Shut up,' says Bob. He's gone just the tiniest bit pink. 'You're my band.'

'They should film this story and show it every Christmas,' says Frank, which gets him a smack around the head from Ray. 'Does Toro get his honour defended?'

'He would if he ever let go of a guitar long enough to need it.'

They troop off to bed after that like a pack of kids, with the air weirdly clearer between them. Gerard can feel the angst oozing out of Mikey's bunk, though, under the hems of the shitty little curtains. He wonders how much Mikey heard.

He's almost asleep when he registers Mikey's bunk creaking. It's not like there's anywhere to sneak off to, on a moving goddamn bus, but Mikey sneaks off regardless, probably to brood. 

There's the distinctive noise of a guitar getting kicked, and some muffled swearing, and Gerard sighs and hauls himself out of bed too.


End file.
